Going Forward in Reverse
by alwaysconfuzzled
Summary: How are you supposed to keep going when everything else has stopped? Because you can scream as loud as you can but that doesn't mean anyone will hear you. T for strong language, violence and child abuse. No Slash. UPDATED!
1. What's in a smile?

**A/N Aloha! 'Going Forward In Reverse' is my new angst-baby and has taken shape faster than all my other fanfics - hopefully meaning it'll be good :) **

**This story is for my little retard happyhappyjoyjoy4 whose random musings in Math one day gave me the idea for this story, the ever lovely valentine142 who is almost as obsessed with Kendallangst as me and the EPIC TealMoose who helped me out with the first chapter :)**

**I may be adding a Prologue a bit later on so watch out for that :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own BTR - but I claim rights to my OCs and the plot.**

Going Forward in Reverse

Chapter 1 – What's in a smile?

West Duluth High was a dump. And that was the polite word for it.

A huddled block of buildings with various shades of peeling grey paint, semi-boarded up windows that never _quite _got fixed and endless linoleum –tiled corridors whose only purpose was to sap the souls out of every innocent freshman who dared step through the notoriously stiff doors.

It was as if God had decided to empty his ashtray on that particular spot of Little Marais; creating a vortex that sucked in anything picturesque and all sense of hope.

Lovely.

Unfortunately, the kids who rocked up there were almost as parasitic as the school itself – leeching the life out of every living being in the vicinity – illustrated beautifully by the wilted flowerbeds that lined the school grounds.

Kendall stared numbly at his locker, waiting for it all to sink in.

"_And so began life in hell..."_

Kendall cried out shortly as someone bashed into him from behind and he smashed his head on the shelf of his locker. He stumbled back, but was promptly caught in the side of the head as someone swung open their locker door.

"Jesus – mind your head!" A girl stuck her head round the locker door, sending him an accusatory glance as if it were his fault there was a dent in the flimsy metal.

Kendall blinked before shaking his head. "I'm fine," he gave her a rare, lopsided grin and slammed his own locker shut, wary of the broken latch.

"Hey! You're new, right?" Kendall whipped round, caught a little off guard.

"Yeah..."

The girl was regarding him with the same expression as a vulture that had just seen a particularly pathetic animal die, and was wondering whether or not it was really worth its time.

"What's your first class then?" She observed him amusedly through dark brown bangs and smoky eye make-up, smirking.

"Uh...Math, Room 18..."

"Do you know where that is?" She was using a patronizing tone envy to a kindergarten teacher, eyebrow raised as if she were talking to a two-year-old inclined to play in the traffic.

"No..."

The girl sighed in mock exasperation and shut her locker, swinging her bag over her shoulder. "C'mon then. Same class as me." She marched past him, but stopped and looked back expectantly.

"What's your name?"

"Uh, Kendall, Kendall Knight."

"Nice, I'm Mizzy."

Kendall was pleasantly surprised. "What's that short for?" Mizzy looked at him as if he'd just grown an extra head. "Mizzy." She gave a reproachful look that clearly said 'you're so stupid, I pity you.'

Kendall shrugged and followed her down the corridor, blanching when he saw a puddle of sick next to the toilets with a 'Caution: Wet Floor' sign planted squarely in it.

"Drugged bastards," Mizzy muttered, using the thick folds of her scarf as a make-shift breathing mask. Kendall wondered why she was wearing quite such a thick scarf – Minnesota was cold in mid-autumn, but not so much a scarf was necessary, and certainly not indoors. He shrugged it off – marking it as another thing he would probably never understand in this town.

When they finally reached Room 18, the lesson had already started – an incomprehensively dull looking teacher writing meaningless squiggles masquerading as mathematics on the board; his monotonous explanatory drawl a soothing lullaby for the back row.

Mizzy marched in without hesitation or even a timid, apologetic nod, smirking at the teachers bemused expression.

"Miss West. Care to explain why you're ten minutes late to my lesson, and why there is a young man trying to hide behind you?" A ripple of laughter broke through the class.

Mizzy, without so much as a glance behind her, stamped Kendall's foot with her spike-heeled stiletto, smirking yet again as he winced.

"I smashed newbie with my locker, he was in this class, he didn't know where he was going – it's my good deed for the day or some of that 'neighbour' crap – I dunno," she announced nonchalantly, as if she were announcing a sudden inconsequential change in the weather, idly studying a chip in her red nail polish.

The teacher sighed and waved his hand vaguely.

"Go sit down. Both of you." Mizzy slumped down in a seat near the front next to a pretty black girl with long braids sweeping around her shoulders and immediately engaged in an avid conversation – possibly noting the tragic combination of corduroy chinos, nylon shirt and maroon sweater vest their teacher had seen fit to wear that morning.

Kendall nervously scanned the rows until he saw an empty desk right near the back of the room. He was glared at; scrutinized by a class of people who'd all mastered the art of speaking out of their corner mouths while simultaneously giving the evil eye – multitasking Kendall knew he'd never achieve as he nervously shuffled down the aisle, steadily blushing.

He finally reached the vacant desk and sat, eyes darting around, looking for an almost inevitable threat.

He did not have to look far.

A huge meaty fist slammed down on his desk, and he flinched.

"Alright, newbie?" The low grunt in his ear was menacing and Kendall automatically tensed up in fear cowering in his seat.

Just another confirmation that Math was not his favourite subject.

-BTR-

Kendall practically ran out the lesson, eager to get away. His own irrational (or so he hoped) fear carried him onwards, until he ended up sprinting down endless grey corridors; trapped in a labyrinth of chewing-gum covered linoleum. Panting, he tried to identify his surroundings.

He had absolutely no idea where he was.

A second later a fist wrapped round the back of his neck and he was rammed into the wall, wincing as he felt new bruises instantly forming.

"Thought you could just run away, newbie?"

The threat was grunted in his ear, followed by a chorus of raucous laughter.

"Uh," before he could even begin a coherent answer, Kendall's face slammed into the wall as a punch was aimed at the back of his neck. Bright white spots danced across his vision.

"Oi, dickheads!" The grip round Kendall's neck slackened and he tumbled to the floor as Mizzy marched down the corridor, stepping right up to Kendall's assailant, brandishing nothing other than a fork.

"This fork. Your eye. Three seconds. Go."

The group laughed, but their leader gulped, eyes flickering nervously.

"Do you remember what happened to your balls last time, Milligan?" she smirked, with a nauseatingly sweet tone of voice. "Run along now boys, if you want to be able to walk for a week."

With nervous glances, the group backed off, going down the corridor at double speed of their usual menacing lope.

"Hey." Kendall looked up to see Mizzy watching him in careless amusement. "You in one piece?" Kendall nodded numbly.

Mizzy sighed and held out a hand, hauling him to his feet.

"Why...why d-did you do that?" Kendall stuttered, gaping at her in astonishment.

"Because I don't appreciate people getting beaten up unless I do it. And plus, the look on those meathead's faces is priceless." Mizzy sighed and glared at him. Your face is all messed up. What're parents gonna say when you come home beat?"

"Saves me effort?" Kendall muttered inaudibly, stuffing his hands into his jeans pockets.

"Eh?"

"Nothing..."

"Okay then..." Mizzy looked at him suspiciously before turning to leave.

"Um, Mizzy? Where are the science labs?" Mizzy laughed without looking back at him.

"Look behind you," she called, and Kendall knew she had that smirk on her face. He turned round and realised with a feeling of complete idiocy that Lab 4 was right behind him.

"Cheers,"

"No problem," Kendall watched her leave, trying to hide the blush steadily creeping up his cheeks.

How _embarrassing._

-BTR-

Kendall looked round the lunch hall in stunned bewilderment as hoards of slavering teenagers fell on greasy hamburgers with the same avid fervour as a pack of rabid wolves. He was seriously considering making a break for it and hiding in his locker when someone pulled at his elbow.

"Newbie! Wake up! You're blocking the lunch queue!" Mizzy glared at him through heavy mascara—laden eyelashes, before sighing in exaggerated exasperation and dragging him over to where surly dinner ladies were dishing out the muck McDonalds rejected; each chip falling onto the plate with a squelch worthy of a runny blancmange.

After being 'served' (if you could call a grunt and the food lobbed in your general direction 'service') a slice of pizza which left a greasy smear across the cheap plastic plate, Mizzy guided Kendall over to a table near the back of the hall.

"Hey, Mizzy!" A Latino with crushing enthusiasm was obviously having difficulties staying in his seat, given he was bouncing up and down like he'd swallowed a firework, or at least a double espresso.

Mizzy looked a little pained as she sat down next to him. "Carlos, this is Kendall. Kendall, Carlos," She muttered wearily, waving her hands in their vague direction.

Before Kendall could even attempt an awkward 'hi', Carlos grinned, "Mizzy, I didn't know you had a brother!"

Mizzy and Kendall looked at each other, then at Carlos, then both raised an eyebrow.

"We. Are. Not. Related," They stated in perfect synchronization, before looking at each other, unnerved. Carlos giggled. "But you look so…"

Mizzy lunged at him, holding her flimsy plastic knife to his throat. "Finish that sentence, _Garcia_, and you'll get extra special red sauce on those chips," She hissed in his ear, and the Latino gulped audibly.

"So, Newbie. You play any sports?" Mizzy asked casually and Carlos rubbed his neck and shuffled away on his seat slightly.

"Er…"

"Cos if you do, make them know fast. Save yourself from a lot of lunchtimes spent in the nurses' office."

"I-I play ice-hockey."

Mizzy smirked at him in mock approval. "Ooh, very nice. Go sit with all the jocks then." Despite her amused face, there was no humor in her eyes.

"Huh?"

Mizzy did that sigh again, clearly a girl of few expressions, or at least few she wished to use. "If you've got something that will make life any easier, you use it. Go on." She jerked her head to the right.

Uncertainly, Kendall picked up his lunch tray and picked his way through the myriad of tables to the throne (3 tables pushed together) from where the jocks dominated the social hierarchy in the middle of the room.

Nervously, he stood at the head of the table.

"Uh, hi, I'm K-Kendall. I-I'm new here."

A blond in a hockey sweater observed him with amusement. "Oh yeah, the little freak from math. How ya doin'?"

Kendall felt his cheeks increasingly red under their judgmental gazes.

The jock leered at him with glee. "You know what I think? I think 'K-Kendall'," his voiced an octave and mimicked Kendall's stuttering tone, "Needs to learn where he fits in at this school." The others started laughing – reminding Kendall instantly of the hyenas from The Lion King. The movie was one of his little sister Katie's favorites, and he'd spent too many afternoons watching it with her.

People from other tables were craning their necks to see the poor deluded kid about to face social humiliation. Slowly, the guy who was clearly some kind of leader stood up, holding a milkshake taken from the scantily-clad cheerleader sitting on his right. The whole cafeteria went silent. The jock tipped his hand, and it was then, a little delayed, Kendall worked out was going to happen.

Just as the first few pink spatters landed on his T-shirt, the sound of heels clacking on linoleum was unnaturally loud in the eerie silence and the milkshake was dashed out of the bully's hand.

"You _jerks_", Mizzy spat, 5"8 of complete seething fury. "Who _does_ that?" Getting over the initial shock, the jock regained his composure.

"Hey, Mizz, what're hanging out with losers like that for? Come sit with us?" he snaked his arm round her waist, pulling her in towards him, practically groping her cleavage.

With a well-placed elbow, there was a crack as the hockey player's nose snapped, spraying blood across Mizzy's arm.

Without another word, she put her hands on Kendall's shoulders and gently propelled him towards the door. They were almost out of the room when the cheerleader whose boyfriend was clutching his bleeding face screeched, "You dirty slut!"

The cafeteria fell into silence, as Mizzy turned on a red patent heel.

"Yes, but at least I don't need a calculator to check how many boys I've slept with! Hey, why don't you roll your skirt up a bit more, I don't think everyone in the hall can see your panties yet!" Mizzy retorted, sarcasm lacing her words with a knife edge. Grabbing Kendall's elbow, she dragged him out of the room, down the corridor and into the locker room, where she promptly slammed the door.

"Okay, I appreciate that was mean of me…and really stupid – I was joking, alright? Look, this ain't gonna be easy. And it's not so great that they think you're a freak. I mean like, take Carlos, yeah? Kid's a bundle of energy and wears a helmet all the time. One of the best hockey players I've ever seen. They won't let him on the team because the captain managed to convince the coach that he was crazy. They used to make his life complete hell in the 6th grade and he's gonna be stuck with the outs until he graduates."

"The outs?"

"The outs. Yeah. People who don't have their own happy little clique. If you don't fit in – you're an out. Kind of a crap name. They didn't come up with it. Think that was some of Brianne's work. But yeah, bad for you – I'm the first person you talked to and you're stuck with me now!"

"Is that a bad thing?" Mizzy looked at him incredulously.

"Look, half the kids in this school think I'm some kind of whore – the other half think I'm gonna snap one day and kill them all."

"Why…"

"The whole violence thing – well, you've seen me in action," she offered him a rueful smile, "And the slut thing? That's what happens when you wear revealing T-shirts and get fancied by other girls' boyfriends. Some jealous bitch has been spreading rumors since 8thgrade." Mizzy sighed and fiddled with the hem of her skirt.

After an idle silence, Mizzy eyed the front of Kendall's white T-shirt suspiciously. "What're gonna do about the smoothie stains?" Kendall blushed at the pink splatters. "You look like a unicorn threw up on you. Dump it and do up the shirt."

Kendall stared at her stupidly.

"Go on, take it off! I'll try not to perv." She sighed when he blushed and made a twirling motion with his hand. "Jesus," she muttered as she turned round. Kendall tugged off the T-shirt and did up the plaid shirt he had been wearing over it.

He held out the stained garment nervously. "Do I wash it then?"

Mizzy looked at him in appalled astonishment. "Please say you know how to work a washing machine."

"Yes…"

"Well…erm… yeah, just wash it."

* * *

**Chapter 2 is still at the notebook stage - and as I go back to school in a few days T_T it will take at least three days to go up :/**

**PLEASE REVIEW - reviews are like coffee on a Monday morning :)**


	2. Hanging in Suspense

**This chapter is un-betaed, so don't sue me for mistakes.**

**WARNING: Attempted suicide, self-harm**

Chapter 2 – Hung in Suspense

How long does it take to settle in? To know where everything is, where everything goes?

In Kendall's opinion, too long.

After being in the godforsaken rabbit-warren masquerading as an education institution for two weeks – he expected to be able to find his way to his own locker.

Clearly not.

And to make matters increasingly worse – Mizzy had been acting _extra _weird for the past three days.

Whenever he asked her if she was okay – she would blank him and make a loud comment on the pointlessness of geometry – "I know the difference between a circle and an oval – can I leave now?"

"Mizzy – why are you ignoring me?"

Mizzy looked at him, appalled. "Ignoring you?" She smiled mildly, before picking her folder up and turning to leave. "Wouldn't dream of it,"

~BTR~

It was almost the end of lunch break when Kendall realised he had not seen Mizzy since second period.

He was not concerned – he was pretty sure she would waltz in with an espresso from the coffee shop on the corner. Technically, students were not allowed out of the grounds at lunch, but the last time Mizzy had been reminded of this, she had laughed. And when the detention slip appeared on her desk the next morning, she burnt it and scattered the ashes on her head of year's desk. Having a lighter in school was another rule Mizzy _may _have overlooked.

Kendall wandered aimlessly down the corridor, wondering where a rebellious 14 year old girl would spend her lunch. Detention? No, Mizzy proudly told him that even when she actually bothered to turn up for detention, she was soon asked to leave by a weary teacher who wanted to save themselves from cold coffee being poured liberally down their shirt.

He pondered if she had gone to take a nap somewhere – her usual morning nap in Biology had been rudely interrupted by Mr Waite reminding the class that they had an experiment, and yes, that meant work, and yes, it was compulsory. So Kendall had been very good and not complained when Mizzy nodded off on his shoulder in World Civ., leaving an inconspicuous smear of eyeshadow on his shirt. However, she was only asleep for about 5 minutes, as the teacher was showing them a movie, and Mizzy woke up because she could 'smell violence'.

As he passed the locker room, he was reminded of what Mizzy had said one lunch – "The locker room's my place to crash. No-one's ever in there. Got my own key and everything. Janitor really shouldn't leave his stuff lying around..."

He looked back at the door, suspicious. There was a strange wheezing noise.

"Mizzy?" he called in warning. More wheezing. ' Oh god, maybe she's asthmatic or something – no can't be something like that, she's probably, I dunno, smoking, no wait, she said cigarettes were like devil spit in a roll-up...oh god, I don't know..." Kendall was panicking slightly. "Mizz?" You in there? You okay?" Kendall was really starting to worry now. "Mizz, I'm coming in, okay?" He pulled at the handle, not surprised when he found it to be jammed. Kendall had, by now, gone into full blown hyper-panic mode and kicked at the door, until it gave in with a splintering of cheap MDF and a squeak of un-oiled hinges.

"Mizz ... Mizzy?" His shout turned into a horrified gasp. "No..."

Her thick, woolly scarf was knotted round her neck, tying her to a pipe in the ceiling, suspended maybe four inches off the ground. One of her shoes had fallen off, her toes brushing it as she swayed in a non-existent breeze. His lips mouthed her name, but only a weird squeak came out as he crashed across the room. His long fingers fumbled with the tight knot as he struggled to free her, catching her awkwardly when the bonds came loose. Slowly, he knelt to the floor, bringing Mizzy down with him, and she coughed and gasped for air in his arms, clutching weakly at the thin material of his shirt.

"It's okay, you're safe now, it's okay," despite being meant to comfort Mizzy, those words were repeated in his head like a mantra; a attempt to stop his heart beating uncontrollably in his chest. With shaking hands, he brushed a fluffy curl off Mizzy's cheek, surprised when she didn't flinch and tell him to get the hell off, instead, just coughed, still struggling to find her breath. Kendall whispered, voice cracking, "Mizzy? Can you hear me? Please?" Instead of a reply, Mizzy shifted a little in his arms, sighing lightly, putting her head against his chest. After a pause, she hiccupped and murmured "Why...why did you do that?"

"Do what?"

She peered at him blearily. "Get me down?"

"Because you could have died!"

"Oh...yeah..." She coughed again, subconsciously nuzzling against him, eyes fluttering as if she would sleep.

"Stay awake, Mizzy," Kendall warned, shaking her gently. She shifted again, using his arms as an obviously quite comfy pillow.

He reached out, hands still shaking, fingers ghosting over the red marks lashed around her neck from where the scarf had dug in. "Get off," she moaned, batting his hands away, struggling to sit up. Kendall propped her against the bench, keeping a protective arm around her shoulder.

"Why did you do it , Mizzy?"

She sighed heavily and looked at him with red-rimmed eyes. "Because I thought it was the only way out. It was so, _so _stupid...the second I started choking," Kendall winced at this, "I regretted it – but...I couldn't even _scream_..." She cut off, burying her face in his shoulder. He shook her off, standing up, pacing away from her. "Did you really think that was the only way out? That's so selfish! Did you really think about what you'd leave behind? How we would feel? Did you think about that?" Mizzy blinked at him in shock and Kendall paused, raking a hand through his hair. "Promise me you'll never do something like that again,"

Mizzy stood slowly, using the bench for support, and limped toward him, standing oddly with one high heeled shoe on and the other off. She looked at him with dark eyes, before grabbing his arm and yanking up the sleeve of his shirt.

Thick, angry red scars tracked from wrist to elbow, where biting steel had sliced through pale skin, again and again. "If you promise you'll never do something like _that_ again,"

Kendall pulled her into a rough awkward hug, and they stood there for several minutes, until Mizzy broke away, collecting her shoe and unwrapping her scarf from the pipe. She fixed her make-up in the small, slightly cracked mirror, wiping away smudged mascara and re-applying lipstick. "C'mon, we don't want to be late for homeroom,"

Kendall slipped his hand around hers, and they walked over to the door when Mizzy stopped and raised an eyebrow in amused surprise. "Dude, you kicked the lock in." Kendall shrugged sheepishly, taking note of the splintered wood round the door handle. "That's skill,"

"Yeah, ninja skills,"

"Hmm, my Knight in shining armour with ninja skills," She shrugged and smirked, surprisingly good-naturedly. "I suppose I could get used to that painful cliché – but I think the ninja skills help that one along a bit,"

~BTR~

Mizzy was probably one of the few people to sit at the back of a History lesson and eat soup from a carton – and even more surprisingly, go the entire lesson without reprimand.

"I thought you liked History?" Kendall whispered, as the teacher turned away for another slurp of cold coffee.

"I do. But I like soup better. Besides," she shrugged with well-practiced nonchalance, " I have absolutely no interest in American Presidents. I mean, as far as I'm concerned, some had beards, one had a bad taste in hats, one would probably be better suited for being President of the apes...and Obama hasn't blown up the world yet." She took another sip of soup.

"You really don't care about politics, do you?"

"Nope,"

"Understandable," As Kendall said this, Mizzy's eyebrows reached monumental heights, shooting up as fast as Carlos running to the lunch hall on Fish Stick Friday – the one good thing about school lunches.

Before she could reply with any kind of snide comment, the bell rang, and they succumbed to the instinctive reaction of packing their things and escaping the classroom before any homework could be set.

"What do you have next?"

"Uh," Mizzy scrunched up her forehead. "Gym class. You?"

"English lit.,"

"Nice. See you la..." Mizzy was cut off when a short dark haired kid barrelled into her, knocking her against the wall. "Oi!" she hollered, hands clenching. Seconds later, Milligan and his meatheads barged past, earning a snarl and a few well-chosen swear words.

The dark haired kid was in the lead, but not by enough, Milligan leapt at him and they both went crashing to the floor. One of Milligan's cronies held the kid down, while Milligan punched him in the stomach.

"Thought you could get away? Stupid!" Milligan spat on his victim's face. "No-one's gonna help you, you know why? You're worthless. No-one cares about _you._" As these words were hissed, something flickered in Kendall's eyes, and a mask of fury settled across his face. He marched down the corridor, yanked Milligan round to face him, and punched him in the head. Milligan stumbled back, but Kendall was murderous, his fist flying through the air, crunching into the bully's nose, blood spraying across both of them in a fine mist. By now, the threat had finally registered with the others, and they tried to pull Kendall off Milligan, but to little avail; the blonde yelled and struggled in their grips, kicking and swearing.

Mizzy had run (well, tottered over – running in four inch heels was a skill she was yet to acquire) and was helping the dark haired boy up, as the bullies' attention was no longer on him.

"Woah, everybody _calm down,_" Mizzy was rarely a peacemaker, but this was a desperate situation, and she did not appreciate the idea of spending the afternoon in A&E.

Milligan threw her mutinous look, but backed away, motioning his friends to let go of Kendall. Before he left, he spat in the blonde's face. "See you around, _psychopath,"_

"Well," muttered Mizzy dryly, handing Kendall a tissue, "That was interesting."

"Uh, thanks," The dark haired kid piped up. "You kinda saved my butt there,"

"No problem..." Kendall raised an eyebrow expectantly.

"Oh right, Logan Mitchell,"

"Cool, I'm Kendall and this is Mizz..."

"Oh yeah, I know Mizzy," Logan glanced at them both a little fearfully, before Mizzy huffed loudly in annoyance, "For Christ's sake Logan, you're my Math tutor. I'm not gonna hurt you! If I broke your face, then who would teach me trigonometry?"

**Please review, reviews are like waffles :)**


	3. Rejected Skates

**My word, what is my life. This is approximately 11 months late. I am the worlds biggest failure, and I don't even have some excuse, its just I'm lazy and boring and stupid. And this year has run away from me, and I'd quite like it back. Sorry to everyone I've left waiting, I appreciate I am a failure. This wasn't beta-ed, so please point out any blindingly obvious mistakes you spot, and I will change them right away.**

**This comes to approximately 1,500 words, which is much less than originally intended, but I was so desperate to get this up.**

Chapter 3

Logan, obviously being immeasurably intelligent, had the good sense to bring his own lunch to school to escape the school cafeteria casserole. Or at least his mom had the good sense.

Mizzy and Kendall glared at him with twin expressions of envy.

"Kendall," whimpered Carlos, "I think your lunch is staring at me," They all crowded round Kendall's plate in interest.

"It's not cooking anymore... so I'm pretty sure it shouldn't be bubbling like that," Mizzy mused, eyeing up the black lumps smothered in thick brown sauce. "And it seriously looks like shit,"

"I don't want to eat it now!" Kendall whined, poking one of the lumps with his fork, half-expecting it to growl in response.

"Come on, we were all thinking it," Mizzy shrugged, turning back to her plastic tub of salad and spearing a few dilapidated leaves with her fork. "Is that an oak leaf?" Logan looked at the offending vegetation with interest, but jumped when Mizzy shrieked in horror. "BEETLE! BEETLE IN MY FOOD! AND IT'S ALIVE!"

Carlos laughed at her, "Well, aren't you going to finish that?"

Mizzy flung the tub away from her, squealing manically. "I could have eaten it! I could have died and..." She was cut off by the boys' peals of laughter. "How is that funny!" Carlos let out a girlish squeal in imitation of the girl. "Oh no! A beetle! It's massive! It's going to eat me!"

Mizzy narrowed her eyes at him. "I hope you choke on your own saliva, _Garcia._"

**-BTR-**

"So you where actually serious at being good at hockey?" Mizzy asked sceptically, smoothing out the crumpled hockey tryouts flyer on the table.

"Er... yeah," Kendall frowned, "Why is that so wrong?"

"It's not, you just don't look like the type," Mizzy shrugged, sitting down on the edge of the desk.

"There's a hockey type, now?"

"Well, yeah. Y'know, beefy and – like tough... you know what I mean,"

Kendall huffed indignantly, "I can be beefy if I want!"

"Come on, I can beat your skinny ass anytime I like,"

"Oh really?" Kendall had that smirk on, that meant threat and some kind of jovial danger.

"Ye- oof!" Kendall lunged at Mizzy, sending them both sprawling off the desk and onto the floor, legs akimbo. "What the hell was that?"

Kendall flashed her cheeky grin, "Me beating your pretty ass,"

She glared up at him, murder in her eyes. "I am actually going to kill you," She frowned. "And why the hell have you been looking at my ass?"

"Er..."

"Do you have a crush on me?" The atmosphere in the room suddenly became dangerously awkward. Made worse by the fact Kendall knew his cheeks had darkened to a pleasantly burning shade of puce.

"No..."

"You so do! Oh my god!" Mizzy started giggling, "That's so sweet!" Sweet. That wasn't exactly the kind of reaction Kendall was hoping for. In fact, that was the last reaction he was hoping for. And now his ears had gone purple and he just wanted to shrivel up in embarrassment.

"Oh, don't be embarrassed, babe! I don't mind! It's really cute!" Kendall let out something along the lines of a squeak in response, before he realised he was still kind of lying on top of a girl who had just made it clear that she didn't fancy him, and kind of had his face directly in said girl's cleavage, and just about wanted to die. Face burning; he scrambled off her, backing up until he reversed with force into the leg of the desk.

"...But we can still be friends right?" He realised that she'd been talking the whole time, and hastily nodded. "Good, 'cos you're a really nice guy, y'know?" She smiled, a rarity, and Kendall melted a bit, before hurriedly pulling himself together, "And you were there for me...well... erm... you know... and, well yeah," She was beginning to get flustered now. "So yeah, I gotta get to class, but I'll see you later, yeah? How about you show me them wild hockey skills?"

"Oh, um, yeah sure..."

"I'll see you at the rink after school then, yeah?" Mizzy prompted before slinging her bag over shoulder and walking to the door. Kendall stared after her, brain doing its best to work out what had just happened, before it registered about 30 seconds to late, Mizzy's lips were moving. _Oh crap.._

"...Uh, Kendall?"

"Oh, erm, yup?"

"I said see you later?"

"Oh, um, yeah, see you!" Mizzy raised an eyebrow, and backed out of the room, the door clicking behind her, leaving Kendall to whack his head against the wall a couple times, cursing his own stupidity.

Mizzy stuck her head round the door. "Oh yeah, whacking your head against the wall probably isn't a good idea."

**-BTR-**

"These boots are too small," Mizzy whinged as they stamped their way toward the entrance of the ice rink, "My feet are gonna fall off,"

"I know, you've told me that, why didn't you just go get another size, dumbass?" Kendall retorted with a snort.

"Well I didn't hear you suggesting it. You are rude, Knight. Rude. Very rude indeed..."

"Can you shut up?"

"No," Mizzy stepped out onto the rink and glided forward, a little unsteady being out of practice. Kendall followed, but shot past her.

"Race ya!" He yelled, charging towards the edge of the rink.

"GET BACK HERE RIGHT NOW, KNIGHT!" She slid after him in wobbly pursuit, "STOP SHOWING OFF, ASSHOLE!" Kendall leaned on the guardrail, laughing at her as she skated toward him, murder on her face.

She smacked straight into him, and they both landed on the floor, giggling and snorting hysterically, completely unable to get up, sprawled on the cold ice.

"So this makes the second time we've been lying on the floor together today, doesn't it?" giggled Mizzy, trying and failing to stand again, slipping and landing in a twisted version of the splits, almost taking Kendall out in the process.

Laughter fading to quiet chortles, they scrambled to their feet, before lapsing into an awkward silence.

"Um...wow, this is kinda awkward, isn't it?" Mizzy mumbled, blushing furiously. "Er, maybe this was a bad idea..."

"Uh...well, I...er..." Kendall stuttered out, gaping awkwardly.

"Look, I'm leading you on, and that's not nice, and it's going to end up in one of us getting hurt," she frowned slightly, "Probably you," she added as an afterthought. "We should, just, stop with the flanter and..."  
"Flanter?"

"Flirty banter – and just y'know, just try and be friends, yeah? Because, I don't want... erm, yeah..." Mizzy tailed off lamely, with a half-hearted shrug.

"Okay, then," Kendall tried a smile, and shrugged as well, "That's fine, you know, no problem,"

"Oh god, now you look upset, I've hurt your feelings, I'm so sorry – "

"It's fine. I'll see you tomorrow," Kendall shoved his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, and skated away, and he didn't look back.

**-BTR-**

Pink stained water swirled down the plughole, splashing away the bloodstains peppered across the grimy sink, dribbling down the sides.

Safety scissors were not effective at cutting skin, Kendall observed.

Kendall winced as he sunk the blade further into the pale skin of his forearm. He sniffed, raggedly continuing, dragging the scissors across his arm again. Blood dribbled down his hand, draping off the tips of his fingers and staining his palm red.

He rinsed his hand steadily under the cold water, wincing as it stung, and blotted away the sluggishly oozing blood with a paper towel.

The sound of a toilet flushing made Kendall start, tensing up in surprise and pulling his sleeve hurriedly down his arm.

A tall brunette sloped out of the toilet cubicle, and Kendall recognised him vaguely from gym class as... something Diamond. He attempted a friendly smile, while he furiously wracked his memory for his first name. _Something normal... uh... Mark, no, Matt, no, Joe, no... no hang on wait, it begins with a j... Jim...no... it's something like that... Jason, uh – _"James!"

James turned and looked at Kendall in surprise as Kendall suddenly yelled his name out in the middle of the otherwise empty washrooms. "Um, yes?"

Kendall flushed purple in a matter of seconds, just in time for his mouth to decide to stop working properly. "Uh ... I ... err..." James raised an eyebrow, backing up slightly. "I'm not good at names," Kendall managed to blurt out, "Sorry."

James laughed good-naturedly, "Don't worry about it," He frowned and studied Kendall momentarily. "Your friends with Mizzy, right?"

Kendall cringed at the mention of her name. "Yes – well, I think so?"

"Yeah... well, see you around, then," James shrugged, and sloped out of the washroom.

Kendall sighed. He wasn't good at complicated.

**So, if it isn't too much to ask, please leave a review on your way out, because reviews are like cinnamon hot chocolate on a cold day :) **


	4. Cold Houses

**A/N It's been a while but I've finally managed to update. This was beta-ed by valentine142 who is a complete babe to do that for me. Please read and enjoy and leave a review. This chapter came to 1,511 words, below average but above the minimum. Warning for bad language, mild injury and mentions of violence.**

After several awkward buzzing attempts, the doorbell managed to ring; a thin reedy cry, barely audible over the heavy rain slapping against the concrete path.

Kendall shoved his hands into the pockets of his thin hoodie, well aware that it was useless protection from the freezing rain. He tried the doorbell again, rewarded this time by the sound of footsteps on the stairs and a beam of light as the hall light flickered on. The lock clicked and rattled before the door cracked open, Mizzy's disgruntled face peering through the gap. She looked at him up and down, narrowing her eyes, before the door shut again violently.

"Aw, c'mon," Kendall grumbled, pressing the doorbell again, with more force, stopping to cough harshly into his fist. He winced. It hurt. "Mizzy, please let me in, I'm sorry!" There was silence, and Kendall was seriously beginning to consider curling up under the porch, where at least he could be dry, and sleep there for the night, because the world was beginning to pitch and spin and he didn't think he could stand much longer. "Please?"

"Why should I?" Mizzy's voice was muffled by the door, but he could still hear the clipped tone. "It's eleven thirty at night. What if I'd been asleep?" The latch clicked, and she opened the door, just enough so she could peek round the door at him, regarding him sourly. Her bitter expression changed as her eyes scrutinised his face. "What happened to you?" Her eyes flickered over the blackened eye, the split lip, the rug burn on his cheek.

Kendall shrugged, but the nonchalant affect was lost under his violent shivering. "How the hell do you know where I live?" Mizzy hissed.

Kendall frowned at her. "I've been walking you home from school every day for the past two weeks. I kind of worked it out..."

Mizzy opened her mouth, but shut it again, obviously deciding against whatever she was about to say. "You can come in," she mumbled, swinging the door open. Kendall slunk through the door, careful to wipe his muddy sneakers on the doormat before entering the silent house. Mizzy quietly shut the door behind him, and they stood in the hall in silence for a moment, before it was broken by Kendall coughing violently into his fist.

Mizzy eyed him warily. "It's cold down here. The heater's on upstairs," she said, glancing at the staircase. Kendall nodded and dumbly followed her up the staircase, still shivering. He followed her into the bathroom, where she presented him with a large green towel. "You're soaked," she stated as way of explanation.

She pushed him down to sit perched on the edge of the bath, staring numbly round the pokey room. The walls were tiled in a lovely khaki yellow kind of colour, with the occasional garish yellow daisy painted on. The sink, bath and toilet were a kind of muddy green, and although kept spotlessly clean, still looked like they'd seen better days; possibly in the eighties, when it looked like the bathroom had last been fashionable. There was a large mirrored medicine cabinet mounted in front of the sink, which Mizzy was rummaging around in. After a minute, maybe two, Kendall was beginning to lose track of a lot of things, she sat down next to him, holding a bottle of antiseptic and a ball of cotton wool. Once the cotton wool was liberally doused in antiseptic, she dabbed it on his split lip and across the rug burn. Kendall hissed, and was rewarded with a rueful smile.

"Sorry, it's stings, doesn't it?" She frowned a little at the black eye. "I couldn't find any witch hazel to put on that – sorry. Does it hurt?"

Kendall shrugged. "Not too bad. Had worse."

She looked at him blankly. "Oh." Facing him, she pressed a kiss to her fingertips, before lightly touching them to Kendall's eyelid. "First rule of being a kid – a kiss makes any hurt go away, right?"

He smiled, a crooked smile that probably was deep and meaningful in some way, but completely lost on two teenagers stuck in their lonely little worlds, sitting on the side of a bathtub at eleven o' clock at night, in a particularly miserable spot of Mid-west America. If it were some kind of arty movie, they'd have been able to understand everything about each other in that smile, from that kiss, but it wasn't so they didn't, and quickly as it began the moment was over and they were apart again.

"I'm sorry." Mizzy whispered, looking guilty. "But I think you might have to sleep in the bath. We don't have a spare room, and you're soaking so..."

"It's okay. It's nice in here." It was a lie, and they both knew it, but hey, Kendall was grateful to be in a warm house, who cares if his bed was a bath and his blanket a towel. The radiator next to the door was emitting a lovely heat Kendall could just about feel start to thaw out his frozen fingers, and maybe it wasn't so bad after all.

"Okay. If you need anything, I'm in the next room." She padded towards the door in her fluffy socks, seeming reluctant and subdued. "Light off?" Kendall nodded, and she switched the light off with a click. "Goodnight, then," She left the room, pulling the door to behind her.

Kendall snuffled and coughed into the corner of the towel. It was getting hard to breathe. His ribs were aching, and his head was pounding, and he could not stop shivering. He felt like he should feel lucky – he had a roof over his head, he was safe here, and there was someone nearby who cared for him, if only a little. Yet he still desperately, more than anything else, wanted to be asleep in a nice warm bed, tucked up in the blankets, safe and warm under his mother's watchful gaze. He cursed himself for being greedy. _You don't deserve that, _his mind reprimanded him, _Stop being so ungrateful._

He coughed again, harder this time, trying to clear his throat, but it didn't do much good as he found himself unable to stop, coughing and hacking relentlessly, only occasionally being able to suck in a few shallow, wheezing breaths.

He finally managed to stop, panting with exertion, before flopping weakly further down into the bath. His eyes were beginning to close of their own accord, and his head was slipping down the side of the bath, falling gently into sleep –

"Kendall?" Mizzy's voice at the door jolted him awake. "I heard you coughing, are you alright?" He wasn't entirely sure how she crossed the room and knelt next to the bath so quickly, but she did, and she was hovering next to his head looking nervous.

"I'm fine," he whispered, but his voice betrayed him, cracking and sounding squeaky and foreign.

"I brought you some hot chocolate. I thought it might make you feel better."

"Thanks,"

Kendall took the mug with bruised fingers, inhaling the chocolaty steam, taking a timid slurp. It was the powdery kind, and not mixed properly, but it was warm and perfect and soothed his raw throat. Mizzy was silent, carefully watching his face as he downed the drink.

"What happened?" Her voice was surprisingly steely.

"What do you mean?" Kendall mumbled, trying to avoid her eyes.

"You know exactly what I mean, so answer the bloody question," Mizzy hissed through clenched teeth, quickly going from sympathetic to furious. "So tell me before I hit you, what happened."

Kendall took a slurp of the hot chocolate. "Fell down the stairs."

"No you didn't."

"I did."

"Don't lie."

"Fine. Got beat up."

"By who?"

"Doesn't matter."

"Yes it does." Mizzy's hand shot out and wrapped itself round Kendall's wrist. "Who hurt you, Kendall?"

Kendall looked at her, straight in the eyes. "No-one."

"I'm just trying to help you-

"I don't want your help!" _I don't deserve it._

Mizzy dropped his wrist and stared at him aghast. "Fine!" she screeched. "Fine then! Next time you 'don't want help', turn up at someone else's house in the middle of the night! See how they don't give a shit about you! But don't ever come to me _ever again_!" She marched out the dark bathroom, slamming the door behind her so hard a bar of soap fell off the sink onto the floor.

Kendall watched the door, mind-reeling. He knew he had said something wrong, but he couldn't work out what.


	5. Complications

**Chapter 5**

Mizzy lay flat on her back in bed, staring at the ceiling, completely unable to sleep. She could pretend that it was too cold in her room to sleep, the pillow too flat or the blankets too itchy, but she knew what was really keeping her awake. Guilt.

She knew she over-reacted. And saying 'over-reaction' was really an under-reaction. She could shout and scream and stamp her feet all she liked, but in the end, what did it get her? More stress, more worry, more problems. It nearly had got her in a coffin.

But as she lay there she cursed the part of her brain which thought it was absolutely fine to shout at someone who comes to her for help, when they looked so utterly lost and vulnerable she could hardly bear to look at them.

She had never been good with problems. Neither her own or anybody else's. If something could not be solved by violence or threats, she just did not want to know. Ever. She had this blockage when it came to showing outward emotions that seemed it could never be rectified. To her, crying was cowardice, showing the world emotional weakness. She could never understand that sometimes, the ability to cry shows the most strength.

But she bottled everything up inside, letting it poison her heart slowly but surely, until every thought was black and cold and she could put up her front of stubborn hostility and biting sarcasm, telling herself that she was so cold because she didn't care when really she cared too much.

The alarm clock on the bedside table read 2:17 AM by the time she finally beat down her ego and summoned up the courage to apologise to the boy left sleeping in the bathtub.

"Kendall?" She whispered through the door. She had heard her Aunt come home at just after midnight, and was keen to not have to explain the situation to her. "You awake?" There was no response, but she opened the door anyway, over-conscious of the loud creak it made. Her bare feet pattered on the tiled floor as she crept over to the bath, nudging a stray bar of soap away with her foot as she did so.

Kendall was curled up on his side in the tub, his fraying green towel acting as a blanket which hid his face from view, tufts of dull blond hair visible over the top. His breathing was raspy and uneven, each breath sounding a little more difficult than the last.

"Kendall?" Mizzy nudged his shoulder gently, "Kendall, wake up". With a groan, the boy stirred, coughing weakly as he rolled onto his back, looking up at Mizzy with bleary eyes.

"M-mizz...?" Kendall blinked vaguely, making an attempt to sit up, but she shushed him, encouraging him to lie back down. "What time is it?"

"Middle of the night," Mizzy summarized, rubbing his shoulder in what she hoped was a soothing way. She was too aware of how clammy he was, and how she could feel him shivering under the fabric of his t-shirt. The shadows under his eyes and cheeks made him look gaunt, skeletal. There was a blueish tinge to his mouth.

Something inside her flicked.

"Right, come on, up you get, I'm not letting you sleep here any longer," Without further hesitation, the dark-haired girl grabbed Kendall's arm and hoisted him to his feet, wrapping a firm arm round his middle and managing to stifle a flinch when she heard the boy gasp in pain. Together they shuffled across the dark landing into the lamp lit warmth of Mizzy's bedroom.

The room was small, illuminated with a gentle orange glow from the light on the night stand. A bed, on the small side of a double, was pushed against the wall on the right side of the room, covered with purple sheets and a fuzzy green blanket, and on the floor next to it was a pile of books and magazines. A small wooden desk sat in one corner of the room, obscured beneath an array of cards and notebooks and assorted, a laptop quietly steaming atop the mess. The wardrobe was dribbling its contents onto the floor; a stray pair of leggings and some sneakers creeping stealthily to freedom.

Most glorious of all was the electric heater humming next the bed, immersing the room in soft heat .

Slowly, Mizzy maneuvered them both to the edge of the bed, unceremoniously depositing her weary cargo on the rumpled covers. "You can sleep in the bed, and I'll sleep on the floor. I should have offered you the bed earlier. It was rude of me not to." She found herself being stiff and formal, only too aware of the guilt simmering just under the surface.

"You don't have to do that for me, Mizz," Kendall mumbled through wheezing breaths. The pathetic picture of his slumped shoulders and bruised face completely contradicted his words.

Mizzy softened. "Your ribs... erm...they're hurting you, aren't they?" Kendall nodded, avoiding her searching eyes. "Do you mind lifting your shirt up?"

The boy tensed, panic rippling through him. Mizzy's voice continued, high and faltering with concern. "I just want to help." Sighing he relented, and shut his eyes in shame when he heard her horrified gasp.

The entire right side of his chest was blotched red and purple, swelling clearly visible on his scrawny frame. Scars littered his torso; from tiny scratch marks to what looked like a burn on his hipbone, an angry streak of red on pale skin.

Kendall felt the bed move as Mizzy perched next to him, and felt her cool, dry hands hovering over his battered skin. A whispered torrent of swear words left her lips. Nervously, he cracked an eye open.

Mizzy was staring at him, green eyes soft and completely level, pale lips slightly parted, breathing quickly and quietly, a dark blush creeping across high cheekbones. "You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to. I just want to help you, Kendall, I want this to stop."

He looked away, unable to meet her searching gaze. He didn't realise he was crying until a tissue was being pressed into his palm and then he was suddenly overcome, collapsing in to sobs that shook his body, heaving air into aching lungs, nose running uncontrollably. A slim arm slipped round his shoulders, and he found himself cradled in Mizzy's embrace, head tucked her chin as her fingers gently ran through his still damp hair.

"My dad," was all Kendall managed between choked gasps but it was all Mizzy needed to understand.

"Okay, love, it's alright now... it's all going to be okay... I promise... shh... quiet now... shh, shh... you're safe now..." But as she spoke she doubted the truth in her words.


End file.
